Mathafter
by msgrits
Summary: After the Third Reich piece. What if Sara had to process Lady Heather? “I believe in the afterlife Sara. Do you?”


**A/N Thanks to Michelle, Joan and Teach. This is an after Pirates of the Third Reich. You've been warned. I think LH and Zoe have the same last name but I gave her the last name Jolie in another fic so I thought I would just stay with it.**

Aftermath

Sara Sidle's mother had killed her father. In self defense. In defense of her self and her children's current and future selves, she had stabbed her husband, feeling little remorse and great relief. Despite the traumatic events of her childhood, and her mother's short stay in a mental institution followed by six months in jail, Sara and her mother were close. Sort of. They talked. It was just sometimes they didn't say anything.

That's what Sara was thinking as she entered the interrogation room, set to process a woman who had slept with, and then attempted to kill, the man who killed her daughter. Sara nodded towards Lt. Jim Brass, who was busy staring at his thick soled cop shoes. Old habits. Brass wasn't on a beat anymore but he still he wore the shoes of the long suffering.

"Hello," Sara said to no one particular.

Heather lifted her red black hair. "Where's CSI Willows?" the dominatrix asked

Sara put her kit on the table and slowly began to unlock the kit. "Only two female criminalists on tonight, Lady Heather. CSI Willows was not assigned to your case."

Heather sat at the head of the table. Brass was on her right, fiddling with a recording device of some sort. Sara took the position on the left.

"Palms up," she instructed. Heather turned up welted, slightly bloody palms. Grissom had been forced to pull the whip from her hands after he'd stopped her from nearly killing the man.

Sara turned to Brass with accusation in her eyes. "She needs medical attention."

Brass peered at her hands. "I didn't know. She didn't say anything."

Heather spoke up. "I'm not going to sue anyone."

Brass pushed a button on his cell phone. "Get medical in here. Quickly. We need to process a suspect." He hung up before there was a response.

A few minutes later, a tiny EMT with frizzy black hair, and nervous black eyes entered the room. She swabbed the cuts, handed Sara several samples, disinfected the wounds, covered them with antibiotic ointment and followed up with clean white bandages.

The woman left, leaving a medicinal smell in her wake.

Brass clicked on the recorder and nodded for Sara to continue her work. "Mind if we do two things at once?"

Heather nodded, keeping her eyes on Sara. "Fine by me. I'm sure the taxpayers would be giddy at your efficiency."

Brass snorted. "Thanks. This is interrogation of Heather Elisabeth Jolie. Suspect Jolie has been advised of her rights and she has agreed to speak on the record without her attorney being present. A Mr. Robert Lai, attorney at law is in route to represent Suspect Jolie. Present are CSI Sara Sidle for processing of the female suspect and Lt. James Brass."

Jim nodded to Heather. "Begin please."

Still not looking at Brass, Heather winced a little as Sara scraped under her nails. "Sorry," Sara said.

"It's very nice to meet you Sara," Heather said softly.

Sara glanced at Jim. He gave a short wink.

"Nice to meet you, too, Lady Heather," Sara returned as she reached for an evidence bag. She pulled a thick marker from the kit and wrote on the outside of the bag.

"I guess Catherine-Ms. Willows doesn't understand why I did what I did. That's why she's not here and there are only two female CSIs working."

Sara glanced at Brass again. "I'm not a mother so it's easier for me to be non judgmental."

"Oh." Heather sighed. Sara took the opportunity to take a quick scrape from the inside of her cheek.

"You know, I didn't talk to my daughter for a year. More than a year. She called me, told me she was pregnant and then she disappeared. I, always seeking order, reported her shrink. But I didn't look for her. I have considerable resources. I could've found her." Two pairs of feminine dark eyes connected for a split second. Heather took a shallow breath and continued. "I told myself I was giving her some space. That she was resilient. She'd land on her feet. As usual, I reveled in her unconventionality. I didn't do what a mother should. I didn't find her, bring her and my grandchild home to coddle and pamper them both. It was an awful mistake and one I cannot correct. Catherine would've done that."

It was Brass' turn to break eye contact as he thought of his own drug addicted daughter.

Heather lifted a bandaged hand and smooth down stick straight hair. "I believe in the afterlife Sara. Do you?"

"Yes," Sara managed to say as she tape lifted fibers from the shoulder.

"People we love. We want-no, we _need_ to believe that they're in a good place and watching us. I had to show her how sorry I was." Heather said emphatically looking from Sara to Brass. "I had to show her that she was the most important thing I have ever had. I had to show her that I would sleep with that horrid man. That I would go to jail. Miss Willows doesn't understand that. She wouldn't have slept with him. She just would've killed him."

"I wouldn't know," Sara replied. "Why didn't you just kill him?"

Heather stared at the two way mirror. "I was trying to follow the rules. I like rules. I could keep myself from killing him. I could collect my little evidence and let the justice system do its work."

"That doesn't make sense. We can't actually use his semen to prosecute. You know that. It's tainted." Sara shot back with slight hostility. Warning flickered in Brass' eyes and he touched his foot to Sara's.

Heather looked at her bandaged hand with bit of astonishment. "I wanted to show Grissom that I could be good," her voice was suddenly childlike.

Sara's mouth opened, but no sound came out. She resisted, turning her head to look at the two way glass where Gil Grissom now stood.

Sara worked overtime to control her outrage. "So you slept with the man that was responsible for your daughter's death?"

"Yes." Heather said as if she wanted to change the subject. "I-I thought that if I refrained from killing him-he already thought me capable of murder. I was going to show him…."

Brass cleared his throat but neither woman acknowledged the sound.

"But that was before I met you. I of course knew about you-in theory. I knew there was another that occupied his heart. But one has to try, doesn't one, when all else is lost? All I had was Zoe and a lingering yen for a man that I thought could be very important to me one day. You don't understand, I know. You've never lost someone that you adored, that was everything. You've never lost a child, a parent. Not just someone who gave birth to you -- the person that gave you advice and kissed your skinned knees. Yes, perhaps they have died. But you didn't lose them." Tears fell from clear, dark eyes and gathered at the corners of her mouth. "No one has ever died without you knowing how much you loved them, without that weekly or daily phone call, that birthday email. You weren't forced to post mortem atonement and-as much as I envy you - I don't ever want that to happen to you."

Sara was putting items back in her kit. She pushed away thoughts of her dead father. He'd never been a parent. She'd really only had one parent. There was Grissom and Nick, Greg and Rick and Brass. Hell, there was even Catherine. There was her brother who lived overseas and sent her heartbreaking pictures from refugee camps and sweet notes about him being very proud and how important her work was. Habit suggested that she argue with Lady Heather. But, in a lot of ways the woman was right. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

"No mother, no lover, no daughter or wife. No decent person on this earth should have to bury or burn those they love without peace." Heather watched as Sara carefully placed the tape in another evidence bag. "And you are a very decent person Sara. You ARE good."

Heather stared at the glass again. "I have peace now. I have done everything I can do. Zoe knows."

Reluctantly Heather tore her gaze away from the glass. "You'll take care of him. You won't let him disappear into himself again?"

Several moments passed as Sara let the words trace through her brain. Her intent on disliking this woman had moved to non-judgment, and now she felt something else. It wasn't quite pity but more than empathy.

"I'll do that Heather. Would you like to talk to him?"

Heather shook her head. "Not now. If I go to jail for a long time, perhaps he could write me?"

"I'll tell him."

Sara walked through the door and pushed it closed gently. Grissom stood staring, looking at Brass and Heather through the thick glass of the interrogation room. Seeing and being seen, with his hands stuffed into the jacket of his pockets.

"You okay?" he asked as he put his back to the glass.

"How are YOUR hands?"

Grissom pulled his hands from his jacket and turned the palms up for Sara's inspection. Two very large flesh colored bandages covered each palm. "Hank said it was a precaution," he said, trying not to spit out the name of her ex boyfriend who'd failed to mention that he was engaged.

"Good for him." She raised her kit into the air. "I need to get these processed."

"You sure you're okay?" Gil tried again moving closer to where she stood.

"Yes," was all she said, but quickly added. "I'll need some days off as soon as possible."

"You will?" He searched her faced for signs of distress.

Sara nodded, flipping the light on to drown out the picture of Heather and Brass. "Yeah. It's not an emergency, but it's urgent."

"I'll let Greg and Nick know. You owe them enough favors."

Sara went to protest but thought better of it. "Thanks."

"May I ask?"

"I'm going to see my mother."

"I thought things were okay with you guys." Worry threaded the edges of his voice.

"They're good, but they could be much better."

"Ah."

Encouraged by some unseen spirit of courage, Grissom said the next words so quickly, Sara could barely make them out. "I could come with you," he said without taking a breath. "Catherine owes me lots of favors." He added trying to lighten the mood

Staring for more than ten seconds, but less than thirty, Sara's eyes grew bright with shock.

"Bad idea," Grissom mumbled. "I'm full of them these days."

"No, it wasn't a bad idea. I just need a day alone with my Mom to say all the things I should've said. I know she knows, but I need to say them."

"Of course." He was looking at his shoes now. Sara put slim fingers on his shoulder and then lifted his chin with her index finger.

"You could come up later. And then we could talk." Slow smiles crept across her wide mouth and his bearded one.

"I'll walk you to DNA," he offered pulling the door to the hallway open.

"And carry my kit?"

"Is that like carrying your books?"

The grin was still splitting his face wide open as she walked passed him in the doorway. "For two workaholic scientists, it is."

He took the black forensics kit from her outstretched hand. "So is asking you to breakfast like sitting at the same lunch table?"

"See, you're getting the hang of this." Sara laughed as the door closed behind of them.


End file.
